Bed of Lies (The McRae's, Book 3 - Zach) (The McRae's Series)

by Teresa Hill

  "Have a little faith, Zach. Isn't that what you said I needed? A little faith? You don't have any in me."

  "I do," he said. "I told you everything. Every blessed thing."

  And now he needed her to tell him some things. He made himself pull out again and wait there, knowing this had to be insanity.

  "Tell me you need me," he said.

  "I need you."

  He rewarded her by entering her again, only to pull back out.

  "Tell me you love me."

  "I do."

  Back in, one more time. It was heaven, right there. And then back out again.

  "What if... What if I wanted to marry you. Julie?"

  She gasped, her pupils getting so big and round.

  "Don't get scared now," he said, teasing at her opening, rocking just a bit against her, just the blunt tip of him going in, sliding back out, little by little going deeper and deeper with every thrust, until there was nowhere else to go, nothing else he could do. Just need her.

  She lay beneath him, breathing hard, her arms locked around him, and she felt like she was in seven different kinds of heaven. He lay still inside her, her body throbbing around his, him throbbing inside her, a fine sheen of perspiration running down his chest, a fine trembling working its way through his entire body.

  She hadn't run away, not when he'd told her he loved her, not when he'd explained his little problem in detail. She'd just opened up her arms and loved him.

  She had tears in her eyes now. Her bottom lip was trembling. His body was begging. "This is what I want," he said. "You and me. Like this. Forever."

  She looked like each and every word hurt her, and she started to say something, but he wouldn't let her. He didn't want to know what she'd say. So he took her mouth with his, and he started to move, harder and faster and so deeply inside her, until she cried out, sinking her teeth into his shoulder in an effort to hold in the sounds she made. Her body convulsed around him, and he closed his eyes, and for a minute everything just fell away. Every worry. Every fear. Every need. She took it all away.

  For a long blessed moment, nothing was wrong in his whole world. Nothing to give him nightmares. Nothing to regret. Nothing, except her and all the beauty she brought to his world.

  He came in a long, hard rush, shuddering and shuddering and shuddering, his body wrapped around hers, his face buried in her shoulder, her hands trying to soothe him, running through his hair, down his back, her lips brushing a kiss along his cheek.

  He felt like he could die on this very spot and be happy about it, as long as he could take her with him. He wanted to hold on to this feeling—this peace he'd found with her, wanted to pretend there were no more doubts in either one of them, no obstacles standing in their way, no problems to work through.

  He wanted her just like this, her soft breasts pressed against his chest and her glorious legs wrapped around him, her hands holding him to her, her mouth on his in long, soothing kisses that left him weak and wanting more. He kissed her again and again and again, then realized she was breathing heavily, too, and he surely wasn't helping the effort by lying on top of her like this.

  "Sorry," he said, putting his weight on his hands.

  She stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "I'm crushing you."

  "I like it," she said, pushing him off to the left, just a bit, and then pulling him back down to her. "I like how big you are, how solid, how heavy."

  He leaned on his left elbow, but otherwise stayed where he was, certainly in no hurry to leave. She touched his face, her fingertips tracing the line of his mouth, his jaw, his chin.

  "Better?" she asked.

  "Much. I meant what I said."

  "About what?"

  "Everything."

  The words fell into the same kind of silence that had come after he'd announced that he feared he was going crazy. He couldn't miss the irony of that or the idiocy of his timing.

  "Just what you want to hear, right? The crazy guy wants to marry you."

  "That's not what I was thinking," she said.

  "What were you thinking?"

  "That this whole relationship has progressed at a bizarre pace."

  "We've known each other forever," he argued. And then, because he feared what her answer would be if she gave him one in this moment, he said, "Don't answer me now. Take some time. You deserve it. Just think about it. Think about you and me. Think about everything."

  "Zach—"

  "No. It's okay. I shouldn't have hit you with this now, not when I just laid all the other stuff on you. And we need to see... You know. If this works out for me. If I'm really not crazy."

  "I don't think you're crazy," she said.

  "Half?"

  "Maybe. But... most people are, wouldn't you say?"

  He forgot about laughing, about trying to avoid this. He'd proposed to the woman for God's sake. "I'm sorry I scared you."

  "It's all right. I'm sure I've scared you at times."

  "Oh yeah."

  "Are you okay?" she asked, the pain and the worry in her voice cutting right through him.

  "Yeah, I'm okay." He kissed her softly on her mouth, his forehead pressed against hers, and then he kissed her again and again. "Better than that, in fact."

  She put her hands on either side of his face, holding it between her palms and then gently drawing away. He stayed there, his nose half an inch from hers, and stared at her.

  "I was just going to bring you up here and hang on to you for a while," she said.

  "I know." He hadn't wanted her thinking he was so much of a mess he needed to lie in this bed with her and have her do nothing but hold him all night long. He'd wanted to feel normal and needed and whole, and he'd wanted them both to forget everything he'd said to her, at least for a while.

  He kissed her one more time and then rolled to the side, pulling her along with him, so that they were facing each other in the narrow confines of the bed. He worried that she'd get cold again, so he fished around on the floor until he found the bedding and pulled it back to the bed, spreading it on top of them.

  "Warm enough?"

  She nodded, looking worried again. "Zach, did you really think I'd turn around and run away, once you told me what was going on?"

  "Oh, hell, Julie, I wanted to turn around and run myself. I guess we're more alike than I thought. I couldn't get the words out. I kept hoping it would go away or that it would get better, that you'd never have to know."

  They lay there for a moment, safe in each other's arms, and then he thought of one more thing he had to ask. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

  "Why?"

  "Because of what I almost did to that man, what I wanted to do."

  "That's the difference between you and him, Zach. He killed someone, and all you did was think about it."

  "Still, it made me wonder what I'm capable of."

  "The drinking thing worries me. I won't tell you it doesn't." She held him tighter, kissed his jaw once, then his chin, all she could reach. "But I grew up in a house full of mean drunks, Zach. I really don't think you are one. Is it... Do you really think you are?"

  "I know I never felt like I needed a drink before. I didn't really know what people were talking about when they said that. Needing one. Sam is... he drinks beer all the time. It's no big deal. I never worried about it. I never looked at him and thought, 'What if he has too much? What if he gets mad and starts to hit us?' But when I start to think too much, and it gets hard to be still, hard to breathe... I just want anything that helps stop it, and it seems like alcohol does."

  "Well, it acts like a sedative. I mean..."

  "Maybe I need drugs instead?" He laughed. "Makes you think, doesn't it? Why do people drink? To get away from their problems? To numb themselves?"

  "I don't know. But I'm not going to run away. I'm glad you finally told me everything. I want to help. You'll let me do that? Let me help you?"

  "Yes."

&nbs
p; And then she just held on to him, her face pressed against his chest, her legs tangled up with his.

  Just before she drifted off to sleep, he said, "Can I stay?" Because it was a long time until morning, and it seemed it had taken him forever to get back to her, where he belonged. "I'll get out before Peter gets up. Promise," he said.

  "Yes," she whispered sleepily. "Stay."

  * * *

  He was gone when she woke up.

  She glanced at the clock at her bedside, saw that it was just a little after five. It wasn't even light outside yet. She slid out of bed, taking the comforter with her and wrapping it around her. She went to the window that had a view of the street and watched him walk home. He looked okay.

  All those things he'd told her... It was hard to take it all in, even now. She felt like all the words were jumbled in her mind, but mostly...

  God, he'd scared her.

  And the way he'd worked so hard just to breathe, the tension in his body, the bleakness in his eyes.

  She'd felt a little like that before. Panicky and so scared she had a physical reaction to it. With her, it was her stomach. It could get tied into knots so easily. But she'd never been gasping for breath.

  How tentative he'd been with her afterward—giving her permission to walk away from him. No expectations. No recriminations.

  She started to cry as she watched him walk down the street, tears she hadn't allowed herself the night before. Tears for him and for her. He'd asked her to marry him. How could he do that? How dare he—when he didn't trust her to stand by him when things got tough? Of course, she didn't quite trust him to know his own feelings right now, did she? Not over the long haul. It would just be great if all of her misgivings somehow canceled out all of his. They'd be even. Sort of.

  She wouldn't let herself think of his proposal. Of him saying he loved her. Of the simple pleasure that came from sleeping in his arms.

  She got back into the bed and straightened out the covers. He was hell on bedclothes. She found her camisole and panties on the floor and put them back on, just in case Peter came to find her for some reason once the sun came up.

  And then she rolled around in the bed until she found a spot that smelled like him, that was still slightly warm from his body, and pressed her face to that spot and went back to sleep, imagining he was with her once again.

  * * *

  Julie woke up two and a half hours later, groaning as she remembered Peter had to be in school. She was doing so well with this mother thing.

  She climbed out of bed and raced down the hall to his room to find the door firmly shut. She knocked on it, louder and louder as she got no response.

  "What?" The voice came from behind her, low and gravely. Not Zach's.

  She whirled around and there was Peter, up and dressed, not looking happy at all about it. Julie brushed her hair back out of her face and down, hoping she didn't look like a woman who'd spent the night in a man's arms.

  "It's a school day, and I overslept," she said. "I was just trying to wake you up. Ms. Reed said you had to be in school."

  "I'm ready for school," he said.

  "Yeah. I can see that. Your door's locked?"

  He nodded. "I always keep it locked."

  Which meant what? That he had something in there he didn't want her to see? Did they have to fight about this now? Was she supposed to insist he let her in and then search? She used to hate it when her stepfather searched her room. It felt like the worst violation of her privacy.

  She was still trying to figure out whether she had to do the big bad mother thing when he said, "They steal things from me."

  "What?" Julie asked.

  "Money. If I have money, they take it, and I got tired of it. It's no big deal. I'm just trying to keep what's mine."

  "Mom and Dad steal your money?"

  He shrugged. "It's happened."

  "Oh. Okay." And then she worried about something else. "You have a lot of money?"

  "No. And I'm not doing what you're thinking. I just... You know... mow lawns, rake leaves, that kind of stuff. I don't have that much, but they haven't had much of anything lately, and you know how they get when they think they've just got to have a drink."

  "Yeah. I know."

  "I gotta go to school," he said.

  "Okay." Then she remembered—the mom thing. How did that go? "Did you have something to eat? Do you need some money for lunch? Or a ride to school?"

  He looked at her like she were nuts. She supposed he took care of his own breakfast and that if he wanted to eat lunch, he found his own money, and if he didn't want to walk, he found his own ride.

  Did he need anything from her? Because it would feel really good to do just one thing to help him.

  "I'm going to school." He left, muttering under his breath. Probably curses. Thankfully, she hadn't quite heard them.

  Okay, Peter was off to school. Zach had gotten out of the house without being caught, and she'd gotten to spend the night in his arms. With Zach, who said he wanted to marry her.

  Julie closed her eyes and told herself not to think about that, not to hope, not to get scared. To just let it be. She didn't have to tell him anything right now, and by the time it came up again... Well, it might never come up again.

  She might never have to force herself to tell him no. That would be one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do.

  * * *

  She had just shut off the shower and wrapped herself in a towel when the phone rang. She ran for it.

  "Hi," the most gorgeous, sexy voice in the world proclaimed.

  He sounded like he might still be in bed. She wished he was in hers.

  "Hi."

  "Sleep well?"

  "Yes. You?"

  "Until I dragged myself out in the cold to come home."

  "Sorry about that."

  "Me, too. I wanted to stay. I mean, I know I couldn't. But I wanted to."

  "I wanted you to stay, too."

  "I see Peter's gone."

  Julie laughed. "Are you watching my house?"

  "Maybe. Are you going to see that guy at the Chamber of Commerce today about the job?"

  "Yes. At ten. Why? Are you thinking about coming back over here?"

  "I'd love to, but I don't think we have time. My dad and Rye want to come by and see the house, and the only time they can do it is early. Like in thirty minutes? Is that okay? I don't want to push, but... You really need to move on this if you're going to stop the foreclosure."

  "That's fine. Whatever you say. You're my chief legal adviser and bed warmer, after all."

  "Bed warmer, huh?"

  "Think you're up to it?"

  "Yeah, I think I can handle it." His voice got deeper, quieter. "Julie?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Thank you. For last night."

  "You're welcome. I'll see you soon."

  Chapter 18

  She hurried and dressed—white blouse, skirt, matching jacket, stockings—rushed through her makeup and was at the door when the three of them rang the bell. Zach's dad and brother-in-law stood there, clipboards in hand. They smiled at her and came inside. Zach winked and made a show of checking out her legs behind the two men's backs. She patted his bottom as he walked inside, and told him to behave.

  Julie offered them all coffee, which Sam and Rye both said they'd happily take once they walked through the house and made some notes. They declined the nickel tour, so she simply gave them a vague explanation of Peter's locked door, which had them grinning again. They both had experience with kids his age. Soon she was alone in the kitchen with Zach.

  "Nice suit." His hands settled at her waist, fingertips flirting with the curve of her hips. "I thought you said you didn't own any little bitty skirts."

  "This is not a little bitty skirt," she claimed.

  He whistled. "Works for me."

  "Is it too much? Really? I'll change."

  "Don't you dare," he said. "A man can't help but admire your legs, no matter what kind of ski
rt you wear, and I'm telling you, it's a shame to cover up any more of them than you have to."

  "But this is a job interview, not a date."

  "Yeah, but like I said, a guy can't help but look."

  "So you're okay with other men admiring my legs?"

  "Well, I shouldn't complain. They're the first thing I noticed about you from across the restaurant that night."

  "You haven't seen me in eight years, and the first thing you noticed were my legs?"

  "I didn't know it was you at first. You had your back to me. All I saw were gorgeous long legs and hair that I wanted to see loose and hanging down your back."

  She frowned up at him. "You were standing there admiring me before I turned around and you figured out who I was?"

  He nodded. "That can't be a big surprise. You're gorgeous."

  He seemed absolutely sincere about that, and what could she say? Anything that resembled a protest would look like she was fishing for compliments, and he'd already given her some very nice ones. She might have to go shopping for some truly little bitty skirts. Might as well give the man something to look at.

  "Don't tell me you're one of those women who hates her body?" he asked.

  "I don't hate it."

  "I can tell you don't truly appreciate it the way I do."

  "You're feeling good this morning," she said.

  "I'll feel better after I do this."

  He leaned down and kissed her. It was all she could do not to sink into his arms. As it was, she took his face in her hands and held on to him. He was so precious to her, and she'd been so scared last night.

  He sighed over her mouth, made a little sound low in his throat that sounded like he were a man enjoying a really delicious meal. "Good morning."

  "Good morning." He smelled wonderful, and he'd obviously come straight from the shower. His hair was still a little damp, and he had on his lawyer clothes. She toyed with a button on his crisp white shirt, trying not to think about what it would be like to wake up to this every day. To him. "How are you this morning?"

  "Not too crazy. Not so far, at least. And I talked to a friend on the police force this morning. The guy from last night didn't make a report. Who knows? Maybe he'd been drinking or he's been in trouble with the cops before. Either way, looks like I got lucky there."